


Something Old: Seanmhar Bealtaine

by Ducks



Series: Something Old [4]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Beltane, F/M, Het, Pagan, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-23
Updated: 2009-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ducks/pseuds/Ducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 09/03/2000 - The text of the ritual in this story, as well as this particular version of "The Charge of the Great Goddess," and the Great Rite were gleaned from <i>The Witches’ Bible Compleat</i>, by Janet and Stewart Ferrar.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Something Old: Seanmhar Bealtaine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 09/03/2000 - The text of the ritual in this story, as well as this particular version of "The Charge of the Great Goddess," and the Great Rite were gleaned from _The Witches’ Bible Compleat_, by Janet and Stewart Ferrar.

It was a perfect night for a long walk. The air was warm, with a light breeze that carried the brine scent of the nearby bay up over the rolling hills. The full moon shone down, lighting the group's way as they tramped through the damp, thick grass.

"This was a great idea!" Willow chirped, skipping on ahead, happily looking up at the moon. The others watched her, all feeling the heady energy of the warm Irish night. Oz looked up at the moon himself, feeling Her mighty pull in his blood, and was glad that his magick worked so well. Willow told him that this land was sacred, that ley lines, or paths of energy, criss-crossed the green land, bolstering any spells cast there. He was happy to be able to enjoy the full moon like the others, and even happier to be able to watch Willow frolic in its silver light.

"Angel, you never told me it was so beautiful here," Buffy said wistfully, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm as they walked along.

He smiled down at her. "I try not to think about Ireland much."

"Ach! Angel, man, you can't tell me you don't miss the sweet air of our motherland!" Doyle exclaimed, inhaling deeply, "Smell that! Hearthfire, cattle, fertile soil... and all that green, green clover! There's no other smell in the world like it!"

"Don't forget the orange stars, pink hearts, yellow moons, purple horseshoes, blue diamonds, and red balloons," Xander mumbled.

"Smells like manure and low tide, to me," Cordelia complained. She was having trouble keeping up with the others, as her high heels kept sinking into the soft earth.

"Ah, princess... you've no idea what it means to be an Irishman!" he admonished, putting his arm around her.

"Drinking too much Guinness, singing the entire Chieftains collection over and over again, and pinching anybody not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day?" Cordy snapped, "I think I've got it."

"It's different than I remember," Angel said, tugging Buffy a little closer, "But yeah... I did miss it."

Doyle whacked him in the arm, "200 years away don' make ya less of a paddy, there, Liam!"

"Aye, laddie, aye," Angel agreed, letting his brogue roll, "'Tis a fine thing to be back in Old Eire again..."

Buffy giggled. She loved it when he used his accent--even more when he spoke to her in Gaelic. She didn't know what the words meant, but Hell if that mattered. A little rush of warmth flowed through her at the thought.

Faith and Spike hung back, sucking face as they walked along. They'd started almost the moment they got on the chartered jet, and hadn't detached much, since, except for a moment here and there to allow Spike to smoke and drink. He now carried a giant bottle of Guinness in the hand that draped over Faith's shoulder, and his perpetual Marlboro Red in the other, which hung by his side.

He pulled up to take a drag off his current smoke, "We would've been just as happy with the scenery back at the hotel," he drawled. Once he exhaled, Faith quickly pulled him back to her lips with a grin. Spike didn't resist.

"They would have been just as happy if we nailed them into a crate in the cargo hold," Xander mumbled under his breath.

Anya glared at him, "Ireland is a mystical place," she said wisely, "It makes everybody horny."

"The dump back in Sunnydale makes you horny," Xander joked, and kissed her soundly, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you..."

"Hear hear!" Doyle bellowed, taking a long pull off his whiskey bottle.

"So, you've been to Ireland before, Anya?" Angel asked the ex-demon.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Rather a lot, actually. There was this time during the Potato Famine..."

Doyle gasped, shocked and appalled.

"Ixnay with the aminefay..." Cordy muttered under her breath.

Xander elbowed Anya as a reminder that her particular memories of Ireland would probably not be the most appropriate ones to share.

Anya frowned, "But you guys don't want to hear about that."

"No, we really don't," all the men agreed simultaneously.

Willow stopped skipping suddenly, a few yards ahead of them. They quickly caught up to her.

"Will? You okay?" Oz asked.

The Witch nodded slowly, looking off into the distance, as if searching for something.

"Do you guys feel that?" she asked.

Everyone looked at one another, and then off into the empty hills. Even Faith and Spike stopped slobbering on each other enough to investigate.

Buffy approached Willow. "Feel what?" she asked.

Willow looked at Buffy and Oz, "Magick. Strong magick. There's a ritual going on near here."

Oz and Doyle both sniffed at the air.

"Smoke," Oz observed.

Doyle nodded, "Bonfire, I think, yeah..."

Angel listened. "Drums, too. Harps... flutes... and... Jesus, are those Uillean Pipes???"

Spike tuned his hearing to listen to the god-awful noise coming from a distant hill. He hated traditional Irish music. Hell, he hated Ireland. Everything about it was backward. Except the beer.

Buffy looked up, "You guys are nuts. I don't feel, hear, or smell anything."

"Me neither," Faith agreed.

"Well, no offense to the Slayers, but I'm voting we take the word of the more supernatural types..." Xander said.

Willow suddenly spun around, wide-eyed. "Wait! What day is today?" she asked frantically.

"Sunday," Oz told her.

She shot him a look, "I mean the date. What's the date?"

Buffy and Faith exchanged confused looks.

"April 30th. 22 days until my birthday," Cordy informed them.

"Oh gods! You guys! Oh wow!" the redhead yelped, then turned and ran the rest of the way up the next hill, stopping when she reached the top.

The others sprinted after her, not certain what she was so agitated about. When they reached the crest where she stood, and looked down, things became more clear... at least to their older and/or more European members.

The next valley was not empty at all. In fact, its flat surface seemed to be lousy with people, who danced and sang around a blazing bonfire, ringed by a circle of standing stones. It was clearly a revel, with music and the smell of cooking filling the air.

"Beltaine!" Willow announced.

Buffy, Cordelia, Xander, and Faith stared, uncertain what that meant, and still having no clue what they were looking at. Angel froze in his tracks. Doyle and Spike gave out matching war whoops, and ran off together down the hill, straight into the party. The large gathering accepted them without any apparent hesitation, and they soon disappeared into the fray.

"What the Hell is this?" Xander asked.

Faith grinned at them. "Hey, a party's a party, right?" she said happily, and sprinted off after the demon and the vampire.

The remaining gang looked around at one another. Willow blushed furiously and kicked absently at the grass. Angel continued to stare at the scene below, his face unreadable.

"Okay... what's going on?" Buffy asked, tugging on Angel's sleeve to get his attention, "What's with the brouhaha?"

"This, I believe, is a hootenanny," Oz corrected her helpfully.

Buffy shot him a look. "Whatever. What is it for?"

Angel looked down at her, a little taken aback at what they’d found, and uncertain how to explain their discovery so that her TV-addled American mind would understand.

"It’s a Beltaine circle. Tonight’s the eve of May," he told her.

The others stared at him as if he were speaking to them in Swahili. With the exception of Willow, who continued fidgeting nervously, and Anya, who grinned as understanding began to dawn on her.

"Come on, Xander," she said, pulling him away toward the bonfire.

"I... what... why? I don’t..." he argued, pulling back. He was in no mood for some weird witchy voodoo thing.

Anya leaned close to him, "We get to have sex at the end," she said.

Xander’s grin quickly matched hers, "Oh, jeez! Why didn’t you say so?" He followed her with no further argument.

Once they were gone, Buffy looked up at Angel again.

"Um... I still don’t get it," she said, trying to figure out what the heck the ex-demon had been talking about.

"There is no way I’m going to go rolling around in the grass or dancing around some fire or whatever. This is my favorite dress! And it’s silk! Do you have any idea how hard that is to clean?" Cordelia whined.

Angel looked desperately at Willow, hoping she had a more modern, less ribald way to explain Beltaine than the one he knew. Wiccans tended to be less on the revelry side, and more on the ritualistic. But the Witch wasn’t giving -- she avoided his gaze.

Angel sighed, resigned. "Beltaine is an ancient pre-Christian holiday celebrated by the Celts who once lived here. It’s a celebration of life in full bloom -- summertime, basically. It marks the midpoint of the growing season," he explained, still sidestepping the central issue that was causing Willow so much discomfort.

"And sex enters into it how?" Cordelia asked snottily.

"It’s a fertility celebration," Willow said softly.

Everyone stared at her.

Angel took up the slack, "The Old Ways saw Beltaine as an opportunity to celebrate the growth of the crops, and the fertility of all the Goddesses creatures. We--I mean, they--gave thanks to the Earth, and encouraged continued growth by... mating... in the fields."

Buffy gulped, now blushing herself. "Oh," she said, "Huh. Sex in the fields..."

"But that’s not all it’s about," Willow cut in.

Angel shot the redhead a dark look. Oh, sure. Now that the tough part was out, she wanted to contribute.

"See that pole off to the side? That’s a Maypole... you dance around it. And the bonfire is actually called a ‘need-fire’ -- it harkens the return of life to the world," she said, "It’s a sort-of dual celebration: fertility and fire. Fertility of our Mother, the Earth, and the fire of the God, who impregnates her."

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!" Cordelia snorted, "Please. This sounds just like Ye Olde Frat Party, to me!"

Oz looked over at Willow. "So, this is a Wiccan celebration, too."

She nodded.

"And, you’re pretty devout, aren’t you?" he went on.

Her blush deepened. "I’m not... I mean... I can’t just... Oz, skyclad? Surrounded by strangers? I can’t..."

Oz shrugged. "When in Rome..."

Buffy was still completely lost. "What’s skyclad?" she asked.

Oz more or less answered her question by taking off his shirt. It would feel good to be naked under the moon. He might not be changing, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling wild. He reached out and took Willow’s hand.

"You can stay dressed, if you want," he told her gently, and led her away. She began shedding her clothes as they walked, shooting a final, frantic look back at Cordy, Buffy and Angel before they disappeared down the hill.

"Skyclad is naked," Angel explained unnecessarily.

Buffy gaped at him. "NAKED?!" she yelped.

"Oh no!" Cordy bitched, "I am SO not getting naked in front of all these drunk and drooly Irish people! It would be like stripping for a room full of Doyles! No way!"

Angel looked slowly from one woman to the other, and back at the bonfire again. After a thoughtful moment, he pulled off his coat and kicked off his shoes.

Buffy stared at him. "What are you doing?" she barked at him.

His sweater and tee shirt soon followed, leaving his pale, muscular chest bare and shining in the moonlight. He gave Buffy a reassuring, but mischievous, smile.

"I used to love the Old Ways, when I was growing up," he admitted, "And Beltaine was my favorite."

"I’ll bet," Cordy snorted.

Buffy cocked a wry eyebrow at him, "Didn’t you say this was a Pagan celebration? I thought you were a good little Catholic boy when you were alive."

Angel’s smile grew to a grin that was almost leering, "I said I was Catholic. I never said I was a _good_ Catholic." He held out his hand to her, "Care to join me, my bonnie lass?"

The Slayer couldn’t help herself. She kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her sweater, leaving only her sheer, skimpy sundress.

"This is as naked as I’m getting," she told him, and took his proffered hand.

Angel pulled her tight against him, "We’ll see about that."

Cordelia watched them walk away, ashamed that all her friends were such blatant wantons. Imagine, prancing around naked with a bunch of drunk and smelly strangers! What was this, West Hollywood?

She gathered up the abandoned clothing into a pile and sat down on it to pout.

*********

Willow had been absolutely right -- the circle was supercharged with magick. It crackled like electricity in the air, sending red, green, and blue sparks flying out of the bonfire. The music and laughter were almost tangible, as Buffy followed Angel into the crowd, clutching his hand for dear life. They were surrounded by people of all ages and races, in various stages of intoxication, trance, and undress. She blushed furiously, alternately gaping stupidly and averting her eyes.

Angel led them to the center of the stone circle, where a now-naked Willow and Oz stood talking to an older couple in red robes.

"Emperor’s Imperial Guard..." Buffy mumbled upon seeing the couple’s odd attire.

"What?" Angel asked, looking down at her.

"Them," she nodded to the scarlet-clad pair, "Never mind. Star Wars reference."

"Oh," he said. Not a movie he’d seen, although he kept meaning to. "They’re the High Priestess and High Priest of this group. They’ll officiate over the ritual."

Buffy pulled him to a stop. "There’s going to be a ritual?"

Angel looked at her strangely, "Of course. This is a Holy Day, Buffy. Religious, like Christmas or Easter."

"Only Santa isn’t naked, and the Easter Bunny isn’t mating in the fields to bless the crops or whatever," she joked.

He scowled. "Actually, most Christian holidays are sanitized rip-offs of these ancient traditions. The priests created them to distract the country people from their ‘Pagan ways’," his voice was edged with bitter resentment, but it was gone as soon as she noticed it, "And bunnies actually are a symbol of fertility. The hunting of hares used to be part of the celebration."

Buffy continued to hesitate. She wasn’t a big fan of magick to begin with, and all of this felt so Twilight Zone-y. She closed her eyes against all the bizarre goings on.

Angel leaned in close to her, placing a cool kiss on her blushing forehead, "It’ll be fun. I promise. You’ll never see its like again," he said, low and soothing in her ear.

She looked up at him, and he grinned, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

//Hm. Sex with Angel out in the hills, under a full moon...//

Buffy gave his half-naked form a long, slow once over. Hell, for a chance at that, she’d be able to handle a little chanting and public nudity.

"Oh, fine, then... bloody heathen," she said.

Angel laughed, and led her over to introduce themselves to the Priestess and Priest.

**********

The ritual turned out to be more Wiccan than traditionally Celtic, but the ceremony performed by the Priest and Priestess and their immediate coven was beautiful and dramatically moving. They played out the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, with the Oak King (played by the Priest) as its central figure.

Angel was certain he hadn’t seen the Wheel of Life dramatized in the many years since he had died, and the symbolism resonated powerfully through him. Where did he fit on the Wheel, now? He was neither dead, nor alive. He was certainly not fertile -- although he knew full well that symbolic fertility meant far more than just the ability to produce children. Did he really belong here? No longer a child of the Goddess and the God, was his presence sacrilegious?

He almost laughed at his sudden existential melancholy. When, in all the years he was a living being, had he come to the May Fires with any spiritual intent in his heart? Liam wasn’t interested in the Old Ways -- he came out for the free drink and the easy sex. Less sacrilegious for a vampire to be there, understanding the momentous symbolism, than a living man, come to simply indulge his many lusts...

Buffy, meanwhile, was entranced by the touching and sensual ceremony. The symbolic marriage of the Goddess and her Consort touched her deeply in a place she hadn’t known existed, deep inside her soul. ‘The Ground of Being’, Angel often called it.

The Priest now knelt before the Priestess, his head bowed, and covered by a sheer length of emerald green silk, like a shroud. The Priestess stood tall between him and the fire. She turned and chanted softly, and Buffy nearly gasped to see the bonfire die at the Witch’s words.

"The Bel-Fire is extinguished, and the Oak King is dead," she announced sadly, "He has embraced the Great Mother and died of his love. So it has been, year by year, since time began. Yet if the Oak King is dead -- he who is the god of the waxing year -- all is dead. The fields bear no crops, the trees bear no fruit, and the creatures of the Great Mother bear no young. What shall we do, therefore, that the Oak King may live again?"

Nearly everyone in the circle, including Willow (and, Buffy noticed, Angel), replied, "Rekindle the Bel-Fire!"

The High Priestess nodded, and turned once again to the smoldering coals in the fire pit. After another soft incantation, the bonfire exploded to life, twice as big and bright as before.

"So mote it be," the Priestess concluded.

"So mote it be," the crowd replied.

She turned back to the priest, who still knelt, shrouded, before her.

"Come back to us, oh King, that the land may be fruitful, and all the children of the Great Mother may flourish."

She lifted the silk from the Priest’s bowed head, and he stood. He began to speak almost immediately, his deep voice echoing off the standing stones and reverberating through the earth below them:

"I am the stag of the seven tines;  
I am a wide flood on a plain;  
I am a wind on the deep waters;  
I am a shining tear of the sun;  
I am a hawk on a cliff;  
I am fair among flowers;  
I am a god who sets the head afire with smoke."

"All hail Lugh!" The High Priestess chanted.

"All hail Lugh!" the crowd replied.

Buffy leaned close to Angel, who was engrossed in watching the ritual.

"Who’s Lou?" she whispered.

He blinked a couple of times, finally tearing his eyes from the Holy People to look gently at her, "Lugh..." he pronounced correctly, "The Sun God. It’s his holiday."

"Oh," Buffy said, turning back to watch.

The Priestess and Priest turned to their right, where Willow was sitting. The Priestess nodded, and Willow stood, unabashedly naked, before them.

The Priest smiled warmly at her, then looked slowly around the crowded circle.

"Listen to the words of the Great Mother; She who of old was also called among men: Artemis, Astarte, Athene, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Dana, Arianrhod, Isis, Bride, and by many other names:"

"What is this? What is Willow doing?" Buffy asked. Angel had suddenly become her Pagan tour guide. Ironic.

"It’s The Charge of the Great Mother," he replied, "Willow is playing the Goddess. Watch."

Buffy watched. Willow had been standing with her head down and her arms crossed over her chest while the Priest made his speech, but when he was through, her head snapped up, and she flung her arms wide.

"Whenever you have need of anything, once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full, then shall ye assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of me, who am Queen of all the Wise. There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to learn all sorcery, yet have not won its deepest secrets; to these will I teach things that are yet unknown. And ye shall be free from slavery; and as a sign that ye be really free, ye shall be naked in your rites; and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise. For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit, and mine also is joy on earth; for my law is love unto all beings. Keep pure your highest ideal; strive ever towards it; let naught stop you or turn you aside. For mine is the secret door which opens upon the Land of Youth, and mine is the cup of the wine of life, and the Cauldron of Cerridwen, which is the Holy Grail of immortality. I am the gracious Goddess, who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man. Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal; and beyond death, I give peace, and freedom, and reunion with those who have gone before. Nor do I demand sacrifice; for behold, I am the Mother of all living, and my love is poured out upon the earth."

The timbre of Willow’s usually soft voice was stunning. The air seemed to fill with it, as it echoed, strong and clear, through the circle. But more surprising still, she seemed to grow larger, and glowed as she recited the words.

The Priest spoke once more, "Hear ye the words of the Star Goddess; she in the dust of whose feet are the hosts of heaven, and whose body encircles the universe:"

"I, who am the beauty of the green earth, and the white moon among the stars, and the mystery of the waters, and the desire of the heart of man, call unto thy soul. Arise, and come unto me. For I am the soul of nature, who gives life to the universe. From me all things proceed, and unto me all things must return; and before my face, beloved of Gods and of men, let thine innermost divine self be enfolded in the rapture of the infinite. Let my worship be within the heart that rejoiceth; for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals. And therefore, let their be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honour and humility, mirth and reverence within you. And thou who thinkest to seek for me, know thy seeking and yearning shall avail thee not, unless thou knowest the mystery: that if that which thou seekest thou findest not within thee, thou wilt never find it without thee. For behold, I have been with thee from the beginning; and I am that which is attained at the end of desire."

The effect of the speech was remarkable. By the time she had finished, utter silence fell over the circle. Even the normal sounds of the night and the bay seemed to fall in awe of her.

"Now the Goddess, Our Mother, comes, and the God, her consort, is reborn in his glory. Let us rejoice!" The High Priestess called out.

In a moment, everyone was on their feet. The music resumed as though it had never stopped, and people began to dance in a wide circle around the blazing bonfire.

Buffy had no idea what to do, but the man next to her grabbed her hand and dragged her into the dance, making the decision for her. She, in turn, grabbed Angel, and dragged him with her. As they spun in dizzy circles, she soon found herself laughing joyously, and rejoiced further to hear Angel laughing, as well. The drums built a pounding, driving rhythm, and Buffy soon felt as though she were floating in space, her feet far from the ground. All she could feel were the hands she held... one of a stranger, and the other of her lover.

At one point or another, Buffy saw all of her friends go spinning by, either sitting outside the circle and watching, or dancing along in some other part of the line. Each one was as naked as the day they were born. Only Buffy and Angel remained partially dressed. As soon as she noted that fact, Angel cut out of the circle for a moment, and she found her hand in another stranger’s. When they came back to the spot again, Buffy went wide-eyed to find that Angel had rejoined the circle... naked.

She gaped for a moment, almost losing her balance. Angel winked at her.

"Oh, to Hell with it!" She laughed, and ripped off her dress, tossing it outside the circle dance. It could barely be called a dress, anyway, and she was nude beneath it. The joyous rhythm took her again, and she felt a thrill shoot through her to see that Angel’s eyes were riveted to her bouncing form. He almost fell. Twice.

The jubilant madness... the jaunty music and the thundering drums... the entrancing dance went on, echoing into the night. Angel reached out and grabbed Buffy, pulling her out of the circle and into a spinning reel, holding her close as they pranced counter-clockwise, opposite the direction of the circle dance, and around its perimeter.

She easily followed Angel’s light steps, despite the fact that she had no idea how to dance like this, and clung to him desperately to keep her balance as they spun away.

"What are you doing?" she laughed, dizzy from all the spinning and frequent sips from the wine skin being passed around.

"Banishing evil!" he shouted, "Dancing widdershins chases away evil spirits!"

Buffy looked over and saw Faith and Spike singing naked with the musicians, passing an enormous clay goblet back and forth. Obviously, Angel’s superstition wasn’t working.

After a while, they made their way back into the circle dance, and a few minutes (or was it hours? she couldn’t be certain, anymore) later, Buffy found herself dancing alone in the center of the ring. Many of the younger people joined her, and they wove around the fire, utterly lost in the entrancing rhythm of the drums.

Buffy noticed that the crowd seemed to be growing smaller as time passed. She began to see revelers leaving the stone circle in pairs, dancing or running off into the shadowy night that seemed to wait outside the fire’s reach. She couldn’t find Anya and Xander... Spike and Faith were gone, too. She saw Doyle sneaking back toward where Cordelia waited, and caught a glimpse of Willow and Oz’s matching red hair disappearing behind one of the larger stones.

But the one person she couldn’t find, was Angel.

No sooner had the thought formed in her head, than he captured her, and drew her out of the circle once again. He swept her up into his arms and walked off into the shadows, down the hill and a few yards into a dark, seemingly unpopulated valley. He found a good, flat spot, and set Buffy down on her feet.

"Is this the sex part?" she grinned, running a finger slowly down over his chest, over his abs, and stopped just below his waist.

He gasped at her warm touch, deeply affected by the magick all around them, as well as that of her searing presence. "It is," he said hoarsely, and kissed her, long and hard, gathering her body tight against him. Buffy wound her arms around his neck, and the feeling of being attached and detached simultaneously from her body and his sent a shudder through her.

Angel dropped suddenly to his knees, sliding his body over hers as he gracefully hit the ground. With his arms still wrapped around her, he smothered her belly in cool kisses, running his hands down her back, over her read, and brought them to rest on her hips. Then, he pulled away and looked up at her with an expression she had never seen on his face before, and could never possibly describe.

"What?" she asked breathlessly, feeling her knees go weak from his look.

"The Great Rite," he reminded her, sliding his hands up to gently fondle her breasts. He kissed the nest of her curls before him, then looked up again. It took him a moment to remember the words, it had been so long since he had said them... and he didn’t think he ever had, in English.

"Allow me to erect the ancient altar, at which, in days past, all worshipped. The great altar of all things. For in old time, Woman was the altar. Thus was the altar made and placed, and the sacred place was the point within the centre of the Circle. As we have of old been taught that the point within the centre is the origin of all things, therefore should we adore it; Therefore whom we adore we also invoke. O Circle of Stars, whereof our father is but the younger brother, marvel beyond imagination, soul of infinite space, before whom time is ashamed, the mind bewildered, and the understanding dark, not unto thee may we attain unless thine image be love. Therefore by seed and root, and stem and bud, and leaf and flower and fruit do we invoke thee, O Queen of Space, O Jewel of Light, continuous one of the heavens; let it be ever thus: That men speak not of thee as One, but as None; and let them not speak of thee at all, since thou art continuous. For thou are the point within the Circle, which we adore; The point of life, without which we would not be. And in this way truly are erected the holy twin pillars, in beauty and in strength were they erected to the wonder and glory of all men. "

Buffy panted, her body stirred by his words and his strong hands on her, feeling the magick of the incantation ripple in the air. She didn’t resist when Angel urged her to the ground, brushing his lips on her skin as she too sank to her knees. He eased her gently onto her back, and Buffy gasped at the feeling of the cool dew in the grass against her hot skin. She gasped again, as Angel’s familiar hands traveled the length of her body once more.

"Altar of Mysteries manifold; the sacred circle’s secret point -- Thus do I sign thee as of old, with kisses of my lips anoint."

He dipped down and kissed her deeply, urging her legs apart with his knee and resting his weight gently on top of her. She tensed with anticipation as she felt his erection nestling between her legs, poised for entry.

Angel kissed her cheeks, her ears, and her lips, then softly trailed his mouth down her throat, pressing himself softly against her.

"Open for me the secret way," he whispered, "Beyond the gates of night and day, Beyond the bounds of time and sense. Behold the Mystery aright -- the five true points of fellowship..."

He slid his hands under her, shifting her hips to meet his as eased himself inside of her with a deep, breathy sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Closing his eyes, he thrust deep, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as he whispered in her ear,

"Here, where lance and grail unite, and feet and knees..." he stopped to give out a long, shuddering sigh, "And breast... and lip..."

He ended by kissing her softly, reverently, teasing her lips with his tongue, begging for invitation into her sweet mouth. She gave it without hesitation, completely overwhelmed by the sensations rushing through her, both physical and otherwise. Their mouths danced and melded with their own rhythm as their bodies rocked tenderly together.

Buffy could hear nothing but the pounding of blood in her ears as he thrust in and out of her... their bodies created a perfect circuit, and she could almost feel the air sizzle around them, and the earth thrum beneath them.

The friction was unbearable, inside her. His hands and lips seemed to be everywhere as he drove himself home, deep and hard, over and over again. Buffy clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him and meeting his thrusts with her own.

Passionate cries began to echo from the hills all around them, the drums from the nearby fire driving the rhythm of life through every person present.

Angel panted in her ear, murmuring words of worship in his mother tongue... his body blotted out the stars above them, and Buffy suddenly felt as though she were the Earth Mother -- and he the Sun God who nourished and warmed her... the rhythm of their lovemaking was the very rhythm of life itself.

Soon, their cries matched those that rose all around them... their bodies clenched with the power they built between them, and collapsed as they sent it screaming into the night with their shouts of sweet release. Spent, the power gone, Angel slumped into her arms.

"I love you... mo bandia..." he whispered in her ear, punctuating it with a tender kiss.

Buffy held him closer. "I love you, too."

In moments, they were both asleep in the grass, wrapped in one another’s embrace.  
*******

Buffy woke to Willow’s soft voice above her.

"Buffy? Buffy..."

The Slayer opened her weary eyes and blinked at her friend.

"What... Willow... is it time for class? It’s still dark out." she grumbled blearily.

Angel stirred slowly beside her, "Hmmm..." he mumbled, "Dawn is coming."

"We have about an hour to get back," Willow reminded her, "Or Angel and Spike are gonna..."

Buffy shook her head and sat up. "Yeah, I know, *Poof - Swoosh*," she said.

Angel shot her a look. "Nice sound effects." He accepted his pants, which Oz offered as Willow averted her gaze. She handed Buffy her dress.

She’d forgotten she was just sitting there, naked, in front of everybody. The magick of the circle dissipated, she was suddenly painfully aware of her nudity once again. She quickly slipped on the dress.

Angel stood, and gave her a hand up. The night was now at its darkest, that time when the moon had set, but the sunrise hadn’t yet begun. The three couples were soon joined by Spike and Faith, who were still attached at the face.

The rest of the group rolled their eyes and snorted at their display.

"Don’t you two ever stop?" Xander said, "Please?"

"You’re hornier than me," Anya told them.

Spike looked up and gave his half-naked Sire and the rumpled Slayer the once-over.

"Yeah, and you’re all splendor-in-the-grass because you’ve been up all night playing Tiddly Winks," he said snidely.

The group began walking back toward the hotel, careful to follow the path back the way they came, so as not to disturb people still "celebrating". A few yards away, they found Cordelia and Doyle, still naked and fast asleep on the pile of clothes, covered by Angel’s giant greatcoat.

"I’m not sure if that’s cute, or weird," Xander said.

"Um... guys?" Buffy said, poking Cordelia’s bare shoulder with her toe.

Doyle jumped straight to his feet with a yelp, "What? Demon? Where? What?"

The others laughed. Cordelia screeched when she saw them, pulling Angel’s coat to herself as she fumbled around in the grass for her clothes.

Once the shock of being wakened passed, Doyle stood, unabashedly nude, and grinned at them.

"Seanmhar Bealtaine!" he exclaimed, dancing a little jig. Willow turned away, hiding her face on Oz’s shoulder. Everyone else laughed heartily, except Cordelia, who cursed as she struggled to keep herself covered and get dressed at the same time.

"Happy Beltaine, everyone!" Willow said, still not turning around.

"Hell yeah!" Faith agreed heartily, pulling grass out of her long, tousled hair.

"I vote for May Day breakfast," Xander suggested, taking Anya’s hand and continuing the walk back to the hotel.

"I vote for a May Day shower," Buffy said, hoping she didn’t have grass stains on her ass.

Angel hugged her briefly, gathered the rest of their clothes, and followed the others with his coat flung over his bare shoulder.

"We can’t get breakfast at an inn like this until after dawn, mo bandia," he said, giving Buffy a little kiss on the nose.

She smiled at him, "What does that mean?" It was a word she’d never heard him use, before.

Angel returned her smile. "My goddess."

*********************

The sleeping arrangements at the inn were simple, if not terribly satisfactory to everyone: men in one suite, with Giles, and women in the other, with Joyce. As if they were children on a field trip, in need of chaperones. But mostly, it was to placate the adults, and the strictly old-fashioned owners of the hotel. The gang arrived in their respective rooms, tired from the long night, and the seemingly longer walk, and found the adults still asleep. The men took up the various beds and other bits of floor and furniture they’d arranged over their week’s stay, and swiftly fell asleep.

Nothing doing, for the women. They gathered in their suite’s sitting room, blankets spread out on the floor in front of the eastern-facing window, letting the magnificent sunrise pour in over them. As soon as Buffy had check on her mom and closed the connecting door to the bedroom, the women all fell into a fit of giggles.

"Now that is what I call a party!" Faith proclaimed from her chair by the window, "Even though the music sucked..."

"I liked the music," Willow objected.

"You would," Cordelia shot at her.

"It was authentic," Anya said.

"Oh, screw the music. What about the sex?!" Faith cut in.

"Oh, please," Cordelia snorted, rolling her eyes as the secondary Slayer.

"Come on, Princess," Faith teased, "How’d your half-demon do as King Stag?"

Cordy scowled for a moment, but then her face burst into a radiant smile.

"Grrrr..." she replied.

The room exploded into laughter once again.

"Oz howled at the moon," Willow said sheepishly, but smiling.

"Get OUT!" Buffy shouted, giving her a whack on the arm.

"No, really! Every since he stopped changing, he usually goes out by himself on the full moon to howl. Sometimes I go with him -- it’s kind of... liberating... but last night was the first time we... you know... it was fun," she grinned and blushed simultaneously.

"Angel called me his Goddess," Buffy contributed.

"ME TOO!" the other women echoed.

"Magick," Willow observed, "All of us felt it. Especially the men."

"Xander could call me his Dog Biscuit, and it wouldn’t matter," Anya told them with a good-natured leer, "It’s his hands that do the real worshipping. And sometimes, his tongue."

"Hear friggin’ hear!" Faith agreed heartily, "Spike goes in for all that mushy crap, too -- talking, and stuff. I say, ‘Shut your gob and do your duty, boy!’"

"Spike likes to talk?!" Buffy asked, shocked. She had the vampire pinned as more of a "wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am" type.

"Yeah, like Charlie Rose, for chrissake. ‘Oh, Faith, you’re so beautiful...’ ‘Slayer, your power overwhelms me...’"

"Oh god, you’re KIDDING!" Cordy sorted, "Doyle’s really quiet. He concentrates. Until the end, anyway."

"And then?" Anya asked.

Cordy grinned. "Then he screams like a banshee."

Everyone laughed.

"Oz likes to talk, too," Willow added, "Sometimes he sings."

More laughter, and a few "aww"’s from the group.

"I broke Xander of the whispered platitudes habit a long time ago," Anya said, "It’s a waste of time and energy."

"But what about the not whispered noises?" Cordelia leered, "I seem to remember a lot of really loud moaning, and we never actually... you know... did it."

"Shit, Xander’s a puppy," Faith said. She looked at Buffy, and leaned forward, "Okay, Buff, you’re awful quiet, there."

Buffy smiled mysteriously, and shrugged.

"Oh, come on. I know Spike’s a champ in bed. Angel’s twice his age. I gotta know -- is he twice as good?"

"I don’t know. I never slept with Spike," Buffy joked. But inside, she was thinking -- thinking about the way Angel’s strong, sure hands knew her, played her body like a find instrument that grew straight from his own being. How he recited beautiful poetry, or murmured of her beauty in Gaelic as he made love to her. Sex with Angel was like nothing she could possibly describe. But she wasn’t about to share that with them. The way that Angel loved her was hers, and hers alone.

The room filled with moans and snorts of disappointment, and more ribald comments comparing Angel’s imagined prowess to Spike’s.

Buffy ignored them. Her mind was already somewhere else.

"I’m gonna take a bath," she announced, and got up from her spot on the floor. She grabbed a towel and her toiletry bag, and headed out of the room.

"What’s the matter, Buffy? Subject matter too hot for ya?" Faith called after her.

As Buffy shut the door behind her, she swore she heard Anya say:

"I’ll bet he’s awesome. Look at that body. He has to be."

Each suite had a private bathroom with a sink, toilet, and shower, but the only bathtub was in a common washroom down the hall. Buffy hadn’t seen it yet, but she hoped it would be as nice as she was dreaming it would be. As she padded barefoot toward it, she gently reached out her mind, activating the link between herself and Angel. It wasn’t something she did very often. The idea of crawling into someone else’s mind -- even his -- or having him crawl around in hers, was still very uncomfortable.

Angel insisted he liked being able to communicate with her without words. He enjoyed the deeper connection between them that Old Emma’s soul-binding ritual had created. In binding their souls and essences together, it had somehow bound their minds, as well. But he respected Buffy’s wishes that her thoughts remain hers, and they only used their telepathy in times of danger, and as an aid when they were out of one another’s site during battle.

Buffy found him without effort, and felt him drifting peacefully in darkness, his dreams filled with thoughts of her dancing naked around the Beltaine fire.

She smiled to herself, and nudged him gently with her consciousness.

‘Hm,’ he grunted in his mind.

‘Wake up, sleepyhead. Bath time.’

‘Wha... Buffy? Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine. I’m going to take a bath.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ he mumbled mentally, then the darkness crept over him again, and he was instantly fast asleep.

Buffy stifled a chuckle. The undead slept like... well, the dead, frankly. She nudged him again, a little harder this time.

‘What?’ he whined.

Buffy giggled. He was so grouchy when he first woke.

‘That was a hint, Oak King.’

She felt his consciousness snap suddenly and fully alert.

‘I’m coming.’

She walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and gasped. It was done in the same antique decor as the rest of the inn, with tons of aged wood, ceramic, and ivory paint. But the tub itself...

It was the ovular claw-footed tub she’s expected to find, but it was three times the size. Clearly large enough for two full-grown people to not only soak in, but roll around in.

Perfect. She threw off her now filthy dress, and turned the knobs to let scalding water pour into the pool-sized tub. She poured in four capfuls (instead of the recommended two) of bubble bath, and shivered in delicious anticipation as she watched the bubbling, steaming water rise, and waited for her Angel.

"Hot, just the way I like it."

Buffy jumped and spun around to face him. He shut the bathroom door behind him, turning the little lock as he grinned at her, drinking in the length of her toned body with his eyes.

She took a step toward him.

"Me, or the bath?" she asked, her voice low as she looked up into his lusty gaze.

Angel put his arms around her and pulled her to him. "Both," he said, and kissed her.

His lips tasted sweet and spicy, like whiskey and chocolate... maybe the boys hadn’t been so quick to go to sleep, after all.

Whatever. Buffy was too busy tasting to care.

Angel pulled away from her, "Hey, I thought we were going to take a bath..." he whined with mock indignance.

Buffy smiled up at him, their skin pressed close. "We are. But you have to take your clothes off, first." She backed up, and perched on the edge of the tub. It was almost full, so she turned off the tap and sat back to watch him undress.

Angel’s smile grew as he slid into her fantasy. He reached down and grabbed the hem of his sweater and dragged it slowly up his body, exposing his perfectly ivory flesh inch by tantalizing inch. First, the tight cut of his abs appeared, then his trim waist and his curved lateral muscles... Buffy’s eyes followed the journey of his shirt up over his bulging chest... his broad shoulders...

In a moment, his shirt was gone.

Buffy gulped, hard. Her eyes were riveted to the single fingertip he used to trace a straight, teasing line from his breastbone, over his stomach, to his waist. He paused and looked at her.

He could hear her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she watched him lightly finger the fly of his slacks, but not move to undo it.

‘DO IT! DO IT!’ she shouted in her mind without realizing it.

Angel looked at her. She might have called him here... she might be the Goddess incarnate... but he was the King Stag. Today was his day, and he had the power.

"Is that an order, mo bandia?" he asked aloud, letting his hypnotic voice beckon her, smoothing over her skin like velvet.

Buffy blinked, startled. She hadn’t realized she was thinking so loudly. Of course, she had opened the link, and knowing how strong it was, she barely had to think at all, and Angel could hear her. It was thrilling and frightening at the same time.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Yes," she answered.

Angel complied, sliding the zipper down slowly, then letting the pants fall to the floor. He stepped out of the puddle of silk around his feet. He stood tall before her, bare but for the fine sheen the bathwater’s steam left on him. His skin was fine and smooth, almost hairless, and devoid of any blemish or scar but one:

The pale remnants of the jagged bit she had taken out of the base of his neck.

Buffy held her breath as she stared at him. He was so powerful... not only his physical body, but his sheer, overwhelming presence. He seemed to fill the room, commanding all the light and shadows around him. If not for Angel’s kind and gentle soul, Buffy was certain he would be a Master in his own right, by now. His deep mahogany eyes bore into her, searing her flesh as he let them wander over her body.

Truth be told, Angel was no less enthralled by her. No matter how many times he saw her body, it still overwhelmed him. She was so small... so perfect... hard and soft, simultaneously... rounded in all the right places. And the strength he could feel radiating from her -- the Slayer’s fire, that barely contained violence, bubbling just beneath her radiant, living skin... She was a paradox -- a walking contradiction, as much as he. His desire for her never seemed sated.

They stared at one another in heated silence for several minutes as the steam filled the room, stifling the air.

"The bath’s getting cold," Angel finally said.

Buffy reached out both hands to him, and he took them, allowing her to pull him closer.

"Then I guess we’d better get in," she said.

*********

Only Angel had the presence of mind to bring clean clothes to their bathtime fun, so when they emerged two hours later, they’d had to share. Angel wore the clean black pants, and Buffy the grey sweater. Both looked like walking piles of fleshy wrinkles from their long "bath".

Buffy looked up at him lovingly, and he smiled. She had to admit... when in the tub, there were definitely distinct advantages to a lover that didn’t need to breathe.

Spike and Doyle stood in the hall outside the men’s suite. Smoking was allowed in the room, but not by any of the other occupants, so the vampire and the half-demon shared a cigarette in what had become the smoking zone.

"Ach, Angel! What took the two of ya so long? Didya bathe the whole of Galway, then?" Doyle teased, winking at Buffy. She blushed. Angel smiled mysteriously.

"We were about to send a search party. Thought you fell in. And all the humans are whining about being hungry," Spike added.

Angel shot him a look. He didn’t want to know why it was that his gluttonous childe was not.

"I’m, uh... gonna... you know... get some... pants on," Buffy stammered. Then she stood up on tip-toe and kissed Angel’s cheek before she padded off down the hall.

All three males watched her go with admiration. Spike turned to his sire, leering.

"I gotta know. Little Buff’s twice the Slayer Faith is..." he began.

"Don’t let Faith hear ya say that," Doyle warned.

Spike ignored him, "And Faith wrecks me. What’s Buffy like in the sack?"

Angel pushed past them and entered the suite.

"That’s for me to know, and you never to think about again," he said, only half-joking.

Doyle and Spike chuckled, then followed him.

**********

They chose a table in the dining room well away from the picture windows, which allowed the bright day to pour in over the diners. The shadows in the far corner were sufficient to leave the vampires a little nervous, but safe.

Breakfast was a virtual smorgasbord, offering the best of traditional Irish dining, plus a more palatable set of American choices. The gang chatted happily as they ate, but avoided talk of the Beltaine fire in deference to the older humans at the table who hadn't been present.

Joyce Summers, however, was not a woman who appreciated being left in the dark -- especially not where her precious daughter was concerned.

"So, where did all of you disappear to last night? I didn't hear you come in until dawn."

Buffy blanched visibly -- she had been so certain her mother was asleep when they returned! Angel, if he had had circulation, would have blushed furiously. The others exchanged varied grins and looks of embarrassment.

"We um... we found a May Day celebration," Willow told her weakly.

Spike leered at Faith next to him, and she leered right back.

"Celebratin' the Old Ways, weren't we, love?" he said, taking her hand and kissing it reverently. Faith wrinkled up her nose at him.

Buffy fervently began to wish that everybody would shut up -- or that she could disappear. Angel sat rigid in his chair.

"What?" Joyce asked, confused both by Willow's explanation, and all the kids' suddenly strange behavior.

Most of the people at the table tried not to smile or choke on their food as they all took a deep interest in their breakfast.

"Er... May Day. The Celtic Pagans called it Beltaine," Giles explained, his own face going red, "There are bonfires and dancing. General revelry to welcome the full bloom of summer."

Still slurping at the back of Faith's hand, Spike said, "Fertility celebrations."

"Ritual nookie," Anya added helpfully. Xander's eyes went wide with embarrassment. Buffy sunk deeper into her chair. Cordelia kicked her ex-boyfriend's lover under the table, making her jump, "Ouch! What?"

Joyce frowned a little, looking around the mortified circle of faces, until her gaze fell on Buffy.

"It... it's not... not what you think," Angel stammered, attempting gallantly to save his love's honor in her mother's eyes.

Joyce's eyes turned solidly to him, and now it was Angel's turn to slouch in shame.

"Oh? Then it's not drinking and singing and dancing naked around a bonfire and having sex with wild abandon under the stars?" she asked seriously.

The table fell dead silent. Even Faith and Spike looked shocked. Joyce turned her gaze to Giles, who stared furiously into his tea cup as if looking for something. What he was looking for, of course, was a way to get away from what was happening.

"Well, Rupert?" Joyce said.

He blinked nervously, and fidgeted with his cup.

"I...er..."

"Okay. Fine. Don't tell me," Joyce went on, "But what I really want to know is -- how come no one invited us? I could do with some revelry," she punctuated her question with a wink at Giles and a broad grin.

"MOM!" Buffy yelped.

Angel couldn't help himself. He laughed. The rest of the group made various noises of disgust and embarrassment, and then laughed, too. Only Giles continued to keep his eyes on the table. The only sign he had heard her was his blush deepening to the shade of a ripe tomato.

Fini!!! :)


End file.
